


Letters

by MyOwnSuperintendent



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-13
Updated: 2015-09-13
Packaged: 2018-04-20 11:51:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4786328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyOwnSuperintendent/pseuds/MyOwnSuperintendent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During the early years of her marriage, Catelyn Stark writes many letters.  While writing, she tries to figure out her feelings for her new husband and whether she can find happiness with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Letters

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SomeEnchantedEve](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomeEnchantedEve/gifts).



> Back in March, I promised SomeEnchantedEve a birthday fic. However, I flaked out and did not deliver. With many apologies for the delay, I therefore present her with an early half-birthday fic, which I hope she will enjoy. 
> 
> I don't own A Song of Ice and Fire or anything related to it.

_Dear Eddard,_

_I hope that all goes well for you. I think of you often, and I pray for your success in rescuing your sister and for your safe return._

_Everything is well at Riverrun. I write you now mostly because I wish to share some news. I am with child. Thus far, everything goes very smoothly, and our Maester Vyman says that the babe and I are both well. I hope that I shall give you a son, my lord, and that you shall be back as soon as you may to see the babe._

_Be well, my lord._

_Your wife,_

_Catelyn Stark_

It was so hard to know what to write. Eddard Stark was Catelyn’s husband, yes, but she still barely knew anything about the sort of man he was. They had known each other for mere days before he went off to war, and although she had liked him well enough—he had been kind and courteous to her, and patient when he bedded her for the first time—they hadn’t had enough time to develop any real understanding of each other. As she looked over her letter, her own words seemed strange to her, almost false. She hadn’t said anything that was a lie—she did think of Eddard often, and she did hope that he would return safely—but what did it mean to think of someone that you didn’t truly know? She wanted him to return because he was her husband, because he was the father of the babe that she was carrying, because she did not want anyone else to be lost to this war. But it wasn’t as though she truly missed Eddard himself, and her thoughts of him were mostly questions, spates of wondering what he was really like, what he might be like to live with.

She was pleased about the babe, though, and she hoped that the news would please him too. She wished to give him some hope, some comfort. But she had no idea what words might serve to comfort him, and so she had written this letter, this letter that did not feel like enough, this letter that showed all too clearly how close they were to being strangers.

 

_Dear Eddard,_

_We have a son. He came into the world yesterday afternoon, and both he and I are well. I have decided to call him Robb. I think him a very fine boy, my lord, and I hope you will be pleased with him as well._

_I was very glad to receive your own news and to hear that it has gone so well for you in King’s Landing. I hope for your continued success in the tasks you still have before you and that you find your sister safe and well._

_Please be well, my lord. I pray that you may return soon and that I may see you again and that you may see our son._

_Your wife,_

_Catelyn Stark_

She was still tired from the day before, but somehow it didn’t bother Catelyn very much. As she wrote her letter, her son slept in his cradle by her side, and she couldn’t keep from turning every few moments to look at him. She and Eddard had made a babe together, nine moons ago before he left Riverrun, and now here that babe was. Robb was barely a day old, and yet Catelyn already couldn’t imagine loving anyone more.

She looked down at the finished letter now. She wished that she had more to say, that she could somehow give Eddard more encouragement. The victory of Robert Baratheon’s army was wonderful news, yes, but she imagined that Eddard’s thoughts were still with his sister and would be until she was rescued.

Somehow, Robb’s presence made her more eager to see her husband again. They had a child now, a child she loved, and she hoped that Eddard would love him too. She hoped that they might be a family soon, that they might make a home in Winterfell that would come to mean as much to her as her home here in Riverrun.

She had always prayed for his safe return; he was her husband, after all. But her prayers this morning had been more fervent, and the words flowed more easily as she wrote them in her letter.

 

_Dear Father,_

_We are all in Winterfell now. In my last letter I told you of our journey; Robb has settled in nicely since then. It is much colder here than in Riverrun, but he does not seem to mind it. I keep him well-covered, though, just to make certain that he does not catch cold._

_Eddard arrived back last week. It seems that, after everything he endured in the rebellion, his journey at least was not too taxing. He has begun to tell me more about the castle, and I am finding my way around with more ease. He has brought men-at-arms and other people with him, and in particular there is something about which I must tell you. He has brought a babe to Winterfell, his bastard son. The boy is called Jon Snow, and Eddard says that he is to stay here in Winterfell. He is here now, with his wet nurse. I would wish this to be different, but it seems that it must be._

_I am very well, and so is Robb. Please give my love to Edmure._

_With love,_

_Cat_

There it was. A brave, dutiful letter. A letter that told no lies and yet did not come close to reflecting how she actually felt.

She didn’t want her father to worry about her. She didn’t want him to get angry on her behalf. She didn’t want Eddard to think that she was complaining of his actions so that all the world might hear. Indeed, for all the world to hear was the last thing she wanted; she did not want everyone in the Seven Kingdoms gossiping of the humiliations the Lady of Winterfell was suffering.

So she told her father that Robb did not seem to mind the cold, and she did not mention how much she herself minded it, the way never being quite warm seemed to make everything else worse too. She told her father that Eddard had told her more about the castle, and she did not mention that that and Robb were the only things they talked about, that he was silent and likely cared nothing for her. She told her father that there was a bastard boy in Winterfell now, that he slept in the nursery with her trueborn son, and she did not tell him how she had wept over that. She did not tell him how impossibly foolish she felt—how all of her hopes that she and Eddard and Robb might be a family seemed like the dreams of a child.

She sent her love to him and to Edmure, and she did not tell him how much she wished she were back at Riverrun with them.

 

_Dear Lysa,_

_I was so very sorry to read your news. I know I cannot make this better with mere words, but I will tell you that I love you very much and that I wish I could be with you to comfort you. It still seems very strange to be so far apart, Lysa, and I miss you greatly. I hope that we may visit each other soon, perhaps when the spring comes._

_As for me, I am well enough. I try to learn more about the North and about Eddard; this is my life now, and I find that I am growing more accustomed to it. Eddard is good to me, and there is a routine to my days now. I do miss Riverrun and all the family, but I am trying my very best to be strong. I think that we must both try, Lysa. Not everything will be as it was when we were girls, or perhaps as we once believed it would be, but it will surely grow easier if we try to make the best of everything._

_Please write again when you have the chance. It is nice to get a letter. I hope my letter will help lift your spirits._

_With love,_

_Cat_

Catelyn sighed as she signed the letter and set it aside. She could not imagine how it must feel to have a babe born dead, and her heart ached for her sister. As she had told Lysa, she couldn’t quite get used to being separated; the two of them had slept in the same room all her life, and it was strange to sleep alone. Eddard came to her chambers at night, and sometimes he did stay with her, but that was a very different thing, of course. Eddard was no longer a stranger to her, but neither was he familiar in the way Lysa was. From her sister’s letter, Catelyn imagined that Lysa felt the same way about her own husband and that this made losing the babe still harder for her: having no one whom she loved by her side.

She believed what she had written, though. It was important to try, to not lose hope.   She still hurt sometimes, especially when she saw the other babe who slept near Robb in the nursery, but she wouldn’t let that stop her trying.

In the first days, of course, she hadn’t thought that she could make the best of everything; she hadn’t even wanted to, really. She had still been much too hurt and angry at the way Eddard had treated her. Pretending to be perfectly content would have felt like more than he deserved.

But she hadn’t wanted to neglect her duty, and she’d felt lonely, besides. She had Robb, of course—even now, spending time with her son was what lifted her spirits the most—but she couldn’t exactly have a conversation with him. And so she’d begun to seek out Eddard more often, asking him questions about Winterfell, trying to be as good a lady of the North as she was able. He wasn’t one for much conversation himself, and at first she’d thought that he truly did not care for her company. But now…now she was coming to think that it was just his way.

What she had written to Lysa was true: he was good to her. He answered her questions, and he sought to make certain that she and Robb had everything that might make them comfortable. He came to her bed quite often, and she would not deny that she liked his touch. He was a good husband in most ways, and Catelyn found herself feeling happier, now, than she had once imagined she might. Of course there were still moments when she felt low, as hard as she tried to overcome such feelings. It was still so cold here, and even though Eddard was a good husband he didn’t feel like her own family yet—she didn’t feel that she truly knew him. And then there was the bastard, always the bastard…

But then there were the nights when, after he bedded her, Eddard wrapped his arms around her and held her close and fell asleep beside her. Thinking of it, Catelyn smiled as she sealed up her letter.

 

_Dear Father,_

_Please forgive the lateness of my reply. I have been very busy with Robb. He grows well and is as happy and healthy as ever. He begins to walk, and he makes many sounds when I talk to him and has even begun to say a few words. I am sure you can imagine how proud and happy he makes me._

_I was very glad to get your letter. I can almost see Riverrun when you write about it. Please give Edmure my love and ask him to write as well. Have you had a letter from Lysa recently? I had one several weeks ago. I am so glad that she is with child again—she seems very happy._

_I am in very good health, and I hope that you are as well. We do not have quite so much snow as we did the last time I wrote to you, which I am pleased about, but I am still eager for the coming of spring. Please write again when you are able._

_With love,_

_Cat_

She wondered if she would ever write a letter that was truly honest.

Oh, she hadn’t told her father any lies. Everything that she had written was true—Robb was growing well, there was not as much snow as there had been, and she had been glad to get her father’s letter. When she read about Riverrun, it did almost seem as if she were back there, and right now Catelyn felt as if she would have given anything for that to be the case.

And she hadn’t written that. She had written about Robb and Edmure and Lysa and the weather because she couldn’t bring herself to write about anything else, to talk about how she was truly feeling right now. Being busy with Robb wasn’t the main reason that she had been late to reply. Only one thing had been in her mind these past weeks; she had barely been able to think of anything else, and so every time she had sat down to try to answer the letter she hadn’t been able to think of anything to say.

She felt so foolish. Not very long ago, she had thought that trying to do her duty and to make the best of everything would surely bring rewards; she had thought that, perhaps, Eddard did care for her in his way. And even if he didn’t care for her, she had thought that, at least, he would treat her with respect and courtesy…she hadn’t thought that he would…that he would…

Now she was thinking about it again. It consumed her thoughts, and yet it had happened so fast. One moment Eddard had been lying peacefully next to her in bed, and he’d even been smiling a bit. Then something had possessed her to ask him whether Ashara Dayne were Jon Snow’s mother, and the next moment he had been as far from peaceful and smiling as she’d ever seen him. He had shouted, had told her that she was never to ask him about Jon Snow again, and even if he hadn’t told her that she wouldn’t have wanted to ask. The angry look in his eyes and the harshness in his voice would have been enough. She’d been frightened, although she would never say so to anyone. Not to her father in a letter, because she didn’t want him to worry and she didn’t want him to know that she wasn’t as good at being the Lady of Winterfell as she’d hoped to be. Not to Eddard himself, because she didn’t want to make him angry again and she didn’t want him to know just how much he’d upset her. And not to anyone else, because there wasn’t anyone else for her to talk to.

She looked over her letter again, and she decided that it didn’t sound sad. She was glad that she’d been able to hide it. But she wished that there was somebody she could tell.

 

_Dear Father,_

_I appreciate your concern for me, but I assure you that I am in very good spirits. Perhaps the cold was a bit difficult for me, but as it grows warmer every day now, I have very little to worry me. Robb is very happy and healthy—it is hard for me to believe that my babe will have his second name day before the end of the year!  He wants to do everything and to know about everything, and I must do my best to keep up with him. Eddard looks after us both well. He is a good husband to me and a good father to Robb. He thinks that the spring will arrive soon. So please do not doubt that I am very content._

_I am glad to hear that everything is well with you. Thank you for telling me what Edmure has been doing. Give him my love. I had a letter from Lysa—I was so sorry to hear about her babe, and I pray with her that she may bear a healthy child very soon. I hope she is not too low in her spirits. At least she has Uncle Brynden with her._

_I promise to continue to write regularly, and I promise that I will tell you if I am unhappy—but I assure you that I am not unhappy now. Your letters make me very happy as well, and I hope that you will continue to write to me and to tell me how everyone is at Riverrun._

_With love,_

_Cat_

Either her father knew her very well, or she hadn’t been so good at making her letters seem cheerful as she supposed. In his last letter, he had asked her if she were truly well and happy. She had never written a word of what had happened between her and Eddard—how he had frightened her when she’d asked about the bastard’s mother—but she supposed that her feelings of unhappiness had come out however much she’d tried to hide them. And perhaps it wasn’t so surprising that her father had been able to tell. He’d known her all her life, after all. And he wasn’t the only one who’d noticed.

Eddard had seen that she was unhappy too. He hadn’t said anything—he’d never brought that night up again, and she was grateful; she didn’t think that she would have been able to talk about it, even though there was a part of her that still wanted answers. She had known that he could tell how she felt, though, by the way he acted towards her. It was hard to put into words just how his behavior had changed; he certainly hadn’t made any extravagant gestures or fancy speeches, and she would have been quite surprised if he had. And except for that one night, he’d never treated her harshly, so his kindness to her hadn’t truly been a change. All the same, though, something was different. There was an extra gentleness in his manner to her now, and there was a look in his eyes that seemed to say that he was sorry. He came to join her more often when she played with Robb in the nursery, as if he wanted to show her how much their son—his only trueborn son—mattered to him. He joined her more often when she was alone as well; they would sit in her chambers and talk, and he answered any question that she cared to ask him, now that she knew to keep off the one subject. And when he came to her bed, he seemed more eager to please her than ever before, and he spent much time kissing and caressing her.

Well, she certainly couldn’t put that part in her letter. She couldn’t put any of it, really; it was too hard to explain it all. She didn’t even know herself just how she felt about Eddard now. But she could write that she was in very good spirits, and she knew that that was true.

 

_Dear Father,_

_I am glad to hear that you are all doing so well. It sounds as though Edmure is becoming quite a man now. Did he get the last letter I sent him?_

_Have you been spending much time by the river? I miss seeing spring come to the Riverlands; it is not as warm here, as you can imagine. It is warmer than it has been, though, and I find it very pleasant in its own way._

_I have some wonderful news to share with you. I am with child again. I am in very good health and feel very well now; it is easier than when I carried Robb. The babe should arrive in four moons, which will, I hope, give me some time to accustom Robb to the idea. I am not sure he is old enough to understand quite what it means, and he is not used to having to share my attention. I think that he will be a good brother, though. Ned is very pleased about the babe, and of course I am very happy too. I hope that sometime we may visit each other—I would love for you to see Robb again, as well as the new babe._

_I will send you more news about the babe as soon as he or she arrives. Please send me news of Riverrun as well._

_With love,_

_Cat_

Catelyn had written that she was very happy, but she felt as though the words weren’t strong enough. She couldn’t keep from smiling when she thought about the babe that was growing inside her, when she thought about how she and Ned would have another child very soon.

She had written that Ned was very pleased too, but that wasn’t strong enough either. That was one of the things that made her happiest: seeing how happy Ned was. She had told him about the babe as soon as she was certain—a few moons ago, now—and she didn’t think that she’d soon forget the way he had looked at her then or the way that he had kissed her. And he was so careful of her; he’d looked after her when she’d felt sick, and even now, when her stomach hadn’t troubled her for several weeks, he still asked her if she felt well, if there was anything that he could do for her.   His smile the first time he’d put his hand on her belly and felt their babe move had made her heart skip, and so had his voice when he’d told her how glad he was that he could be with her this time and see her as she carried their babe.

He seemed to like what he saw, too. She blushed, sometimes, to see the lust in his eyes when he looked at her, but she was glad of it. The babe made her feel lusty, too, now that she was no longer feeling ill, and there were times when she thought that she couldn’t have Ned in her bed enough. When they lay together, he told her that she was beautiful like this, that he loved the glow of her skin and her swelling breasts and the curve of her belly. And his touch made her feel so very good.

What she liked most of all, though, was the tender way he looked at her when they lay beside each other. He would rest his hands over her belly then and ask her if she was comfortable, and he would kiss her softly before they both fell asleep. He was happy about the babe, yes, but Catelyn was beginning to think that it wasn’t only the babe that made him smile. She thought that he might be glad to be with her too.

 

_Dear Edmure,_

_A very happy nameday to you! My, you’re getting old. I wish I could celebrate with you, but, as I cannot, this letter will have to do. I know by now that you are not going to answer my letter, but please tell Father what you think of my gift so that he can tell me when he writes. Do not worry—I still love you very much, even if you are too busy to write to your sister. Father shares all the news of Riverrun with me; it sounds as though you are doing very well in your studies. I am proud of you, although I know that you pretend that you do not like me to say such things._

_I am very well myself. My new babe should arrive in less than two moons now, and Ned and I are very happy about that. It is very beautiful in Winterfell, now that the winter has ended; I think that you would like it here, and perhaps you might visit me someday. Riverrun will always be a home to me, of course, but Winterfell is a home to me as well now, and I should like to show it to you. Just this week there has been one change here that I like very much. Ned has had a sept built for me. It is small, but it is lovely, and I am very glad to have such a beautiful place to say my prayers._

_I hope that you may get everything you wish for your nameday. I miss you, but I am glad that you are well._

_With love,_

_Cat_

As she had written, Catelyn knew that her letter wouldn’t get an answer. Her brother had never liked writing letters. He’d only ever answered those he received after she’d reminded him at least five times and sometimes gone so far as to sit down beside him, put the quill into his hand, and tell him that they weren’t going anywhere until he wrote his reply. Now that she wasn’t around to do that, she was hardly surprised that she received no letters from Edmure.

Catelyn would have liked to hear from him, but she wasn’t truly upset. The way she felt right now, she doubted if anything could make her sad. She hadn’t dwelt on it in her letter, for she knew that Edmure wouldn’t find it especially interesting, but she found herself thinking about it a great deal. Ned had had a sept built for her.

He’d looked at her almost shyly when he showed her the small building, as if he wasn’t sure that she would be pleased. But she had been pleased—so very, very pleased. So pleased that even now, nearly a week later, she couldn’t get over the surprise and the joy of it. Ned had done that for her.

He hadn’t had to do it, but he had done it anyway. She’d said something of the sort to him, something about how she would never have expected anything like this, how he hadn’t needed to put himself to such trouble for her. And he had told her that it was no trouble, that she deserved to have such a place, that he’d wanted to do it. Those words had been almost as good as the sept itself. Catelyn had thought that she was happy just to see Ned so excited about their babe, but this was something different. It made sense that he was excited about their babe, after all; the babe would be another child for House Stark. But this sept…it had nothing to do with House Stark or with their duties as man and wife. It was just something that he’d done for her. Because he’d wanted to. Because he—there had been moments when she’d doubted it, but she couldn’t doubt it now—because he cared for her. That was what made Catelyn the happiest of all, knowing that Ned cared for her as she cared for him. She cared for him so much, and now this sept had made her feelings for him even stronger, and she was so happy that she wanted to tell everyone about it.

But it wasn’t something that she could explain in a letter to Edmure. He was still young, and he wasn’t married, of course, and he wouldn’t know how it felt. So when she finished her letter, she went to wait for Ned in her bedchamber, so that she might show him how she felt instead.

 

_Dear Lysa,_

_I was so glad to get your letter. It sounds as though things are very exciting in King’s Landing! Life here seems very quiet compared to what you describe; you must enjoy being in such a city. I would love to visit you there, as you say, but right now I cannot travel. My babe arrived just a few days ago. I have had a daughter this time, and we have named her Sansa. She is lovely, and I am very pleased. Perhaps when she is a bit bigger, though, and I am rested, we might visit. It is very odd to think that we have not seen each other for nearly three years now! Father sometimes talks of having me and the children pay him a visit at Riverrun. Perhaps you might come at the same time, and then we all might see each other, if I do not have a chance to come to King’s Landing. Of course, you would always be welcome here as well._

_With love,_

_Cat_

Catelyn hadn’t known quite what to say in her letter. Sansa was most on her mind now, but it seemed almost wrong, somehow, to say too much about her to Lysa.   Lysa had lost four babes by now, either in the womb or at birth, and Catelyn could tell from her letters how much she longed for a child. It made her sorrowful just to think of it, and she knew that Lysa must feel far worse. Writing about her own babe—beautiful, and healthy, and alive—felt cruel.

And Sansa was all of those things. In her cradle beside Catelyn, she made a small noise, and Catelyn smiled as she set down the letter and lifted her daughter into her arms. Of course she was partial, but she truly thought that Sansa was a perfect babe.

She wasn’t the only one who thought so, either. Ned had said so the moment he saw her—that she was perfect. He’d held Catelyn during her labor, pressing her hands in his own and telling her how strong she was, and afterwards he had cradled Sansa in his arms. They’d both held her, passing her back and forth between them. Catelyn had wondered if her second babe would seem less of a marvel than her first, now that she knew what it was to be a mother, but that wasn’t the case: holding Sansa for the first time had felt every bit as miraculous as holding Robb. And for Ned, perhaps, it was even more of a miracle, holding one of his newborn children for the first time.

She rocked Sansa against her shoulder, thinking about Ned’s face when he’d looked at their daughter. There had been such joy and love there. And then he’d looked at her with the same face, and she’d wondered if it was even possible to be happier than she was then.

Lysa was her sister, and there was a part of Catelyn that wanted to share all of this with her. It would not be kind, though. So she simply hoped with all her heart that Lysa would know such happiness too, someday.

 

_Dear Father,_

_I am sure that what I write comes as no surprise to you. Ned is to leave tomorrow to fight alongside King Robert against the Ironborn rebels. Please do not worry for me—I am in good health, the children and I will be very safe in Winterfell, and you know well that I am capable of making sure that everything runs smoothly in Ned’s absence. I will miss him greatly, of course, but I will trust in the gods and pray for his safe and swift return._

_I will pray that you keep safe as well. I know that you must join in the fighting, but please take care of yourself. Give Edmure my love, and tell him that I know he will make a good lord of Riverrun while you are away._

_Of course I send you my love as well. May the gods hear our prayers and allow this rebellion to be put down quickly._

_With love,_

_Cat_

What could she say? What would it help to let her father know how terrified she was? It would only make him concerned for her, and she didn’t see what purpose that would serve. She was the Lady of Winterfell. As much as she loved her husband, as much as she wanted him by her, it was her duty to let him ride out to war if that was what he had to do. She should not complain or weep or wail about how frightened she was that she might lose him. That would just make things more difficult for everyone.

But what if she did lose him? What if she never saw Ned again after tomorrow? What if Ned never had a chance to see the babe she carried now? She wanted him to stay home with her. She wanted him by her side when this babe was born, just as he had been for Sansa. Sansa…she was so young…what if something happened to Ned and their children grew up and didn’t even remember their father?

She couldn’t think in this way. If she broke down, she wouldn’t be able to do what she needed to do. She needed to have a clear head in order to act as the Lady of Winterfell while Ned was away, to make sure that she kept everything working as it should. She thanked the gods that at least she was well in body now; she had been quite sick in the first months with this babe, more so than with her others, and she didn’t know how she would have managed everything in that state. Now it was only her mind that didn’t feel quite ready for her tasks, and she would make it ready. She had to. It was her duty, difficult as it might be.

Looking over her letter to her father, Catelyn realized that she hadn’t written very much. She thought that perhaps she should add a bit, but in truth she didn’t want to spend any more time on writing. She only had Ned with her for one more night, and she wanted to spend that time with him. So she sealed up the letter, left it on her desk, and returned to her bedchamber.

Ned was there, waiting for her. They didn’t speak as she sat down beside him on the bed; he merely pressed her close against him, running his hands through her hair. Catelyn held him as tightly as he held her, praying that she would have the strength to get through this.

 

_Dear Ned,_

_Everything continues to run smoothly at Winterfell. I do my best to see to everyone’s concerns as you would and to keep everything in good order for your return. The children are well; Robb asks about you often, and Sansa is talking more and more each day. I am also well, and the babe does not give me trouble._

_I was very glad to read your last letter. Please know that I miss you every bit as much and that I am thinking of much the same things. Do you recall, my love, how I felt when I carried Sansa? I am feeling the same way with this babe, and when I am in my bed at night I wish very much that you were there with me. I think of kissing you, Ned, and I think of being kissed by you. I think of the way you kiss and touch me everywhere and of the way you look at me when we lie together. I wish that I might touch you. I think of how wonderful your mouth feels on my breasts and on my sex and of how much I want your cock inside me. It is sometimes very difficult for me to sleep, too, when I think of these things._

_I miss you very, very much, Ned. Please keep yourself safe and come home to me soon._

_With all my love,_

_Cat_

Catelyn couldn’t believe that she had just written such a filthy letter. She wasn’t even sure that she ought to send it. Suppose it somehow went to the wrong person? Or, perhaps worse, suppose that Ned didn’t like it when he read it, that he was shocked and thought her wanton? But he had written such things first…

Even now, she almost couldn’t believe it. They had written often while he was away at war, but they had always talked of perfectly respectable things: of how she was faring with the running of Winterfell and with the children and of how he was faring in the Iron Islands. Of course they had always said that they missed each other, that they hoped he might be home soon, but it had never gone further than that. But in Ned’s last letter, it had gone much, much further. He had written of how much he missed lying with her; he had told her how beautiful she was and just what he wished he could be doing with her right at that moment. Catelyn had blushed when she’d begun to read it, but by the end of the letter, the flush on her cheeks had been not from embarrassment, but from lust.

It hadn’t seemed like Ned to write such a letter. She knew that he enjoyed their bedding as much as she did, but he wasn’t one to talk about such things outside her chambers. Perhaps he had been drinking when he’d written it; he wasn’t usually one to drink much either, but she knew that men at war sometimes did after a battle, to celebrate successes and to keep their spirits up. Whatever the reason, though, she’d very much liked reading it. She’d read and reread all his letters—they were her only connection to him now—but this one she’d found herself rereading more often.

Catelyn hadn’t known if she ought to write a similar letter back, and so she’d begun this letter just like her other ones, by talking of Winterfell and of the children. The whole time, though, she’d been thinking about Ned’s letter. She’d so liked reading it, and if he missed lying with her as much as he said, perhaps he would like such a letter too… She’d felt a bit foolish and embarrassed writing about such things at first, but she’d kept on, and it had seemed to grow easier by the end. After all, she was only writing the truth about what she thought.

And she wanted Ned to know that she was thinking about him just as he was thinking about her. That was perhaps what had pleased her most about his letter: knowing that when he felt lusty, it was her he thought of. Men at war often satisfied their lusts with other women, but her Ned…this time, he had sat down and written her a letter. She had had fears that she hadn’t even wanted to admit to herself, but now she knew that they had been needless. There was only her, now.

She sealed up the letter before she could have second thoughts about it. Then she picked up Ned’s letter from the table beside her bed and began to read it again, her other hand sliding beneath her shift.

 

_Dear Father,_

_This is just a short letter to give you my news. My third babe has come. She is another girl, and we have named her Arya. She has Ned’s look, and she is beautiful and healthy and hearty. Ned was back three days ago, which was just in time to see her into the world; she was born early yesterday evening._

_It is wonderful to have Ned back from the war and to have a new babe to share with him. The other children are happy to have him back too, and we are all well and very, very happy._

_With love,_

_Cat_

Catelyn had written many letters that were difficult, letters in which she’d had to think of how best to convey unhappy news or tried to write of complicated feelings that she hadn’t understood herself. This letter, though, wasn’t difficult in the slightest.

She looked up from her writing to the group on the other side of the room. Ned held Arya in his arms, and the other children sat beside him. Sansa was touching one of her sister’s hands, an awed look on her face, and Robb was leaning in to look at the new babe. Ned caught her look then, and his smile made her feel so warm. The letter was finished, in any case, and Catelyn went to join her husband and her children. They were very, very happy, she had written. The words were simple, but every one of them was entirely true.


End file.
